Storms in Flashing Lights
by swinglifeawayxx
Summary: The song continues on, though, as he tries not to stare too obviously into your enchanting eyes, and you struggle to keep your voice from trembling at the entrance of the memories the music conjures up.


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My first time writing in second person. Just something small. Lemme know what you think.

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You stare into his eyes as you rise up into the sound waves together, hearing the screams and gasps fly around your ears. You appearance is a welcome surprise to them. He smiles slightly at the noise. Lights flash all around you, lights that three years ago would have had you disorientedly spinning around in search of a way out, but still your oceans of eyes remain locked on his. You feel the pulse of the crowd's excitement, feel the waves of exuberant realization rolling off of them. You are all united in basking in the beauty of the music you created with him. He gives you a small, encouraging nod as you raise the microphone to your perfectly gloss less lips.

_**"I know this isn't what I wanted..."**_

Your eyes widen at the sound of your voice magnified around the stadium; it has been too long since you've performed, and, with a serene smile, you realize there is no one you would rather do it with. He looks out over the crowd as your voice echoes around you both, playing back to you both the words that poured relentlessly through your hands and throat, swept over his guitar and piano. You want him to look back at you, to know that he is feeling what you are feeling.

But then, you know already that he is; how could he not be?

As you finish your first part of the music, his eyes snap back onto yours. They drift down your slender body for a moment, taking in your long waves and floaty dress. It is short; you know you'll probably get criticized for it later, but he likes it, and at the moment, that's what matters. You watch as his enticing lips part to allow the sound of his soul to pour from between them.

_**"We were young and times were easy..."**_

As he breaks your gaze once again, lowering his eyes to the strings of the beautiful guitar around his flawless body, you take the moment to watch him, to feel the crowd, and just feel the music once more.

He is so fucking beautiful; his eyes alight with raw excitement and energy, his curls perfectly askew, his smooth lips just barely containing the grin fighting to burst forth. He is euphoric, flying high as a kite, and you are along for the ride, watching as he looks out over the world. The screams have not ceased from the people surrounding you on all sides, and the lights continue to flash, and still your heart constricts as he says those words;

**"_And I don't want to lose her, I don't want to let her go."_**

The first time you heard him sing them to you, in that small, dark theatre, your heart constricted, your eyes tightening, your throat closing up. Tears had pricked you sharply in the irises, your hands clenching into fists around the material of your shirt. You didn't realize the effect would be the same the twentieth time around.

The song continues on, though, as he tries not to stare too obviously into your enchanting eyes, and you struggle to keep your voice from trembling at the entrance of the memories the music conjures up. The people watching are screaming hushed, abandoned screams as you leave the stadium and melt into a river of his voice and eyes.

You're flying high with him now, whipping through the wind and the rain of your storm, watching the sun below you, and you just reach, _reach_ for it. You watch the muscles in his smooth back contract and watch the sinews strain as he leans over his instrument, caught in the passion of your story. The clouds break open, and the torrents continue as your voice rips through the ears of the spectators.

**"**_**Trying to keep the lights from going out,"** _

Your voice conveys your distress, and he turns quickly toward you, his eyes seeking out the cause of your pain. Oh, if only you could shove a mirror in that perfect face to show him, show him whose words were tearing your throat apart on the way out. If only you could show him a mirror and show him the devastating perfection that plagues your every thought. At the realization that you're alright, caught in the past and torn in the present, he turns to face his avid fans once more, his face concentrated and pained.

_**"And the clouds from ripping out my broken heart."**_

The clouds the two of you are soaring upon tear open with a deafening roar, and you're falling, falling, faster, _faster. _Beside you he's whipping through the warm, wet air, and the two of you are grasping, grasping for one another - you more so than him. You can almost feel the rawness of your throat from all the screaming. Your eyes meet his as you come together on the constantly spinning stage.

**"_They always say a heart is not a home, without the one who gets you through the storm."_**

You yearn to touch him, to love him even more than you already do, if that's even possible. He is your heart and your home, and he's your umbrella, but he's also your rain. He causes your pain, and you wouldn't have it any other way. He always comes to rescue you from it.

You cannot bear to look at him during these lines; these lines that you both cried at. These lines where, when written, he stood and coughed to hide his tears.

**_"Standing out in the rain, knowing that it's really over..."_**

You feel that familiar pull; you feel the sad electricity rolling off of him, sinking into your own charged skin, swimming through your blood, racing through your veins. Your feet move of their own accord, because you, of course, need to be near him. You watch as if in slow motion, as you draw closer and closer to his turned, warm, _alive _body. You watch through foggy eyes as your hand reaches up and glides down his damp shirt-back. You feel his muscles relax and tense at the same time, feeling your familiar touch. Familiar, and yet.....lost.

**_"Please don't leave me alone."_**

You convulse. Suddenly, all you can see are the blurry curtains of your long waves, the hard surface of the stage you stand upon and the tears behind your eyes. The microphone slips in your hand as the emotive sweat drips down your neck and back, your flowing white dress flying about you. The sound rips your throat raw on the way out, digging its claws into your skin, willing you to remember the pain you lived in for months. You need no help remembering. The sound flies.

**_"Flooded with all this pain, knowing that I'll never hold you..."_**

You hear him, feel him, know him. He's feet away from you, mere feet. All you want to do is throw your arms around him, and connect your chapped lips to his soft ones, to hold him, and never let go. Because you remember what happens when you let him go; you lose him, all of him.

His voice is cracking, raw. His tones waver, and you can nearly imagine his face: eyes squinted, lips gaping open to allow all of that music to pass through them, curls shaking with his body. You imagine it's beautiful.

You flip your head about, pushing the hair frantically from your eyes because you need to _see_ him, see his pain and the pathetic attempt he makes at hiding it.

**_"Like I did before the storm..."_**

You lift your eyes to the ceiling as everything climaxes around you; the guitars blare their song, the bass thumps through your chest. Fingers dance across strings and keys, hands tighten compulsively around slippery black microphones. Sweat drips, tears fall, hair flies, heads are thrown violently back. Emotions take over; the pain is crackling through the speakers, emanating through the crowd, worming it's way through their skin so that they can feel some _semblance_ of what you are feeling. His voice melds with yours. They twist and wind together to soar over the exposed faces of your audience. They taste the vulnerability, and the beauty, and the love on the tips of their tongues.

Your chest heaves as you fight for breath, and the music slows, one guitar ringing out a final riff. You let your feet lead you over to him blindly, and you face him, taking in his searching eyes. The world stops, and you are the only two still moving. All around you, everyone is frozen, the lights stay still, gazes freeze. He gives you a little smile, and you glance down to his lips.

Your eyes connect with his once more, and you see three things; a lingering pain, eating slowly away at his heart, a lingering love, which you remember being bestowed upon you countless times, and...pride?

And as his mahogany orbs burn through yours, you raise the microphone a final time to your lips.

**_"Like I did before the storm."_**


End file.
